


mix and a-mingle

by redandgold



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, tinder and other assorted bad things that actually happened in real life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 10:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandgold/pseuds/redandgold
Summary: Wearing a jumper that declared SWIPE RIGHT in garishly capitalised letters, all the while stood next to a bloke that Twitter tended to reference in the same breath as the phrase 'just get a room already', did not a comfortable situation make.





	mix and a-mingle

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a feverish span of five hours so I don't claim that it's any good just that I really needed to wash my hands of all this goddamn GAY going on

 

 

It wasn't, to be fair, as bad as the cuddle jumper last year. But then again very few things were as bad as the cuddle jumper last year, or indeed the Naughty Hand Caption which continued to haunt him occasionally. In fact Gary would actually rank some mind-numbingly boring Jose Mourinho games above  _98\. Cuddle Jumper (2017)_.

Still. Wearing a jumper that declared SWIPE RIGHT in garishly capitalised letters, all the while stood next to a bloke that Twitter tended to reference in the same breath as the phrase 'just get a room already', did not a comfortable situation make.

Jamie was grinning at him like a lunatic. Gary missed the times they would just scream at each other on the pitch instead. In his head he repeated the league table so that any goodwill towards the person next to him would immediately evaporate in a fit of anxiety.

"Should I get you a jumper too, Neville?"

United were sixth. _Sixth_.

"They've got SWIPE LEFT ones as well. D'you think you'd rather one of those instead?"

Eight - nine? - points behind fourth place. How many points behind -

"Although I'd be rather hurt if we didn't match."

"You're just doing this to psych me out," Gary said accusingly, knowing the moment the words came out of his mouth that he'd lost this round.

Jamie looked about as innocent as a cat who'd broken all of your dishes and expected you to take the blame. "I never. Why would this psych you out?"

"Because - " Gary didn't know exactly why he was bothered by this, but he refused to give Jamie the satisfaction - "you know I'm worried about the game tomorrow and you're just trying to trip me up with pointless antics."

And it's true; he _was_ worried about the game tomorrow, what with him texting Ole _good luck_ and _Cardiff! haha_ and Ole texting back _arent we playing Huddersfield?_ which was probably a joke, but you never knew with these smiley types, Gary thought darkly. There was probably some ridiculous stat out there about cheerfulness and propensity for murder -

"Ey."

Jamie nudged him in the ribs. Gary blinked, refocused. Wishes he hadn't, because the jumper hadn't gone away. Striped sleeves and a solid middle colour. Honestly. "Actually I think you should wear that more," he said aloud, "you've finally found something uglier than your face."

"You'll be fine, Gaz," Jamie said cheerfully, the inopportune timing giving rise to some thought about where bodies could be buried in Wolverhampton. "Can't get any worse, can it?"

And it was said with the smugness available to a person in his position, but all the same there was something else about it, like Jamie Carragher was actually trying to be _nice_ about United. Just because he thought Gary was worried.

Which was very Christmas-Spirit-y of him, except it wasn't only United which Gary was worried about. There was something else. Something to do with the jumper, and Jamie, and being nice, but before he could think about it more Andy was yelling at them to get into position and then it was time for One of the Season's Most Exciting Games with Friday Night Football, Only On Sky Sports.

 

 

With the Christmas fixtures they always wanted you to say something jolly and Christmassy, as if you were some kind of footballing Santa, although Gary was fairly sure Santa wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near the West Midlands, ever.

"It's a festive mood here at Molineux ahead of the Friday Night Football," he began well enough, and what he _should_ have then said was "I'm joined by my colleague The Grinch, sorry, I meant Jamie Carragher". And that would have been perfect. Christmassy yet snarky, the kind of comment JOE.ie would be writing _Neville 1-0 Carragher_ features about. They get on with the game. The end.

Except he kept staring at Jamie's jumper. And the evil voice in his brain which strangely always had an Oldham accent said, why don't we make a joke about that?

So he said, "I’m joined by my prize catch," and then paused because he genuinely had no clue where he was going with this, expect possibly hell, "when on Tinder, Jamie Carragher."

Actual words out of his actual mouth. On One of the Season's Most Exciting Games with Friday Night Football, Only On Sky Sports.

Five long seconds of silence. Well, Gary thought, long after the necessity of the action had expired, maybe I shouldn't have said that.

He tried to play it off with a chuckle but it sounded so much like he'd just laughed out the words 'oh no' that he stopped.

Jamie looked down at his jumper and back up and laughed as well, but Gary had known him long enough to pick up that he was just as mortified as Gary was.

Hm.

Now that was interesting. Hitherto Gary had always assumed that Jamie was always like this because he knew that it bothered Gary and he'd do anything to bother Gary, but he hadn't known that it worked the other way too.

They somehow stumbled through the rest of the pre-match without further embarrassment and then trooped back to the dinner room in complete and utter silence. Gary had made it through half a cup of tea and foolishly thought that he was going to get to the end when Jamie wheeled around and asked, "what d'you mean prize catch on Tinder?"

"Well, it's." Gary blinked, trying to look cool despite the public betrayal of his reddening cheeks. "A joke, innit?"

"A joke." Jamie narrowed his eyes. When had they gotten to the point of being able to read each other like a book? It didn't bear thinking about.

"Yeah. Like your whole SWIPE RIGHT thing. That was a joke too, wasn't it?"

"Well - " Jamie looked down at his jumper again. "Yeah, but - "

"But what?"

"The point is," Jamie said with some measure of exasperation, "you were supposed to be all embarrassed and love's a very strong word-like, not play along."

There it was. Delightedly Gary gulped down the rest of his tea and slammed the cup on the table with relish. "So I've won? It's about fucking time. They should give us these challenges instead of ones where you've always got the advantage."

"Your nose should've won you that race all by itself," Jamie sniffed as he pulled one of those ugly padded vests over his jumper. As much as Gary was glad to see the back of the latter, the former just reminded him of the Michelin Man. "And it's not over yet."

With all due respect to Jamie, Gary failed to see how it could possibly not be over when he had slam-dunked the image of football's two best pundits dating into the minds of millions of people worldwide.

 

 

Until Jamie kissed Jordan Henderson.

There was nothing _wrong_ with it, just in case anyone thought that Gary was getting to be a bit of a prude in middle age. Very typical of continental Europeans. And with Brexit he wouldn't blame anyone for starting their applications for French citizenship early.

The thing was that Jamie was about as far from continental European as a chippie operating out of a Vauxhall parked in a council flat. Gary barely saw him kiss anyone and certainly not initiate it, as he'd just done. Also live on One of the Season's Most Exciting Games with Friday Night Football, Only On Sky Sports.

Jordan looked about as confused as anyone who'd ever been within fifty metres of Jamie would be.

Gary had quite forgotten how to close his mouth. His double take did not go unnoticed by the cameras, nor by Jamie, who was now staring at Andy absolutely determined to avoid his gaze.

"Well, Jordan," Kelly was saying in an admirable attempt to salvage the situation. "How was the - "

But Gary was only half-listening. "Why would you do that?" he asked Jamie after the show in the carpark, his face scrunched up and still betraying mild anaphylactic shock.

"To win, obviously," Jamie grinned. "Sorry, did you want one too?"

Gary ignored this. "I still think the Tinder thing was better."

"Chin up, Gaz." Jamie patted him on the cheek - or cuffed him round the ear, depending on whether Gary was willing to give the benefit of the doubt or not - and waved as he got into his car. "Game's over. Go home and worry about babyface instead."

"Who, Ole? He's got grey hair now! He's hardly a baby."

"He's like an old baby."

"That's just a grown-up."

"You know what I mean."

Jamie drove off in a cloud of gravel that Gary inadvertently inhaled in what were hopefully non-toxic quantities. The tips of Jamie's ears had been red all through that conversation and it was cold out, it certainly didn't warrant frostbite. Gary tended to notice these things, even if he wasn't all that good at figuring out what the details were good for, unless they were applicable to corners taken by Stoke City.

 

 

Then Cardiff, and Ole got everything right after all, and Gary enjoyed himself far too much to bother himself with losing to a Scouser in a game where the only prize was embarrassment anyway.

 

 

Except.

 

 

"It's not a game."

"What? Christ, Neville, d'you know what time it is?"

"Half past two in the morning. It's not a game."

He'd woken up to this revelation at exactly one, shot straight up in bed, and stared at the wall until everything started to coalesce.

Premise One: they were friends. They spent a lot of said friendship slagging each other off and they still didn't talk for days after derbies, but there was an equal amount of genuine enjoyment and laughter and pulling Christmas crackers that simply didn't happen with colleagues. There was no getting around this, however much Gary liked to deny it.

Premise Two: it was only Gary who denied it, wasn't it; Jamie'd said it himself, _love's a strong word-like, not play along_ . Jamie, meanwhile. Six month fling. Gary Neville's my best friend. He was the one who'd gone out and bought _98\. Cuddle Jumper (2017)_ , not Sky. And the debacle of SWIPE RIGHT.

Premise three: red ears and the pause when Gary'd said it'd been a joke. Getting all embarrassed when he'd continental European'd Jordan.

All this had taken place in the span of half an hour, after which he'd jumped into the car and driven straight over to Jamie's flat at a speed which might have seen him qualify for Silverstone. And now here he was, on Jamie's doorstep, verging on breaking and entering whilst the bleary home owner stared at him.

"Can we do this tomorrow morning?"

"It _is_ tomorrow morning."

"I meant at a time where I wouldn't feel the need to call the police."

"You just pretended that it was a game so that I wouldn't figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"That you're - " Gary waved his arms in some indeterminate symbol of agitation, "- well - that you _like_ me."

Jamie seemed, suddenly, more alert, his eyes brighter. He leaned against the doorframe and folds his arms. "That's some ego on you, Gary."

"S'not - " this was all part of The Plan to mess him up, but Gary could see clearly now, the rain being gone. "It's the truth. I've a list of premises as proof. And you couldn't deal with it so you dressed it up in some stupid competition. Why'd anyone want to win embarrassment, see?"

"I dressed it up because I knew _you_ wouldn't be able to deal with it."

"I - what?"

"You might want to sit down for this," Jamie said carefully, standing aside to let Gary come in without contravening the law.

In Jamie's living room Gary sat on the sofa, staring at the telly and trying his best to ignore the four particular letters dangling off of the Christmas tree in the corner. Jamie set a cup of tea in front of him and grinned.

"Take your time," he said, which was very Christmas-Spirit-y of him.

"Oh," Gary said.

 _That_ was why he'd made the Tinder joke.

The grin had slipped off of Jamie's face to be replaced by a look of increasing worry, like he'd suddenly realised that everything was now Real and Out There.

"Look, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything - "

"I'm not uncomfortable."

"- and I don't mean to imply, I just. It was funny watching you."

"Okay." Gary felt a bit lightheaded and all that. Jamie watched him with concern.

"You all right, Gary?"

"Fine, thanks." He stared faintly at the jumper he'd only just noticed was hanging next to the tree. "So we're - "

Jamie nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so."

Well. This was a surprise. But not - not unexpected, Gary discovered, trying to keep afloat in the midst of a sudden barrage of memories where Jamie had been kind and funny and charming and sweatily good-looking after a jog. All the times Gary'd felt a hopeless sort of affection, the taking pictures of Jamie sleeping and putting it on his bloody Instagram, going to sodding Liverpool for Jamie's fortieth; these weren't things that just _friends_ did, were they.

"You're lucky I don't actually have Tinder," he said, frowning. "I'd have swiped left on you immediately."

"Likewise." Jamie shook his head. "That nose? Hard pass, mate."

"Just as well."

"Yeah."

They stared at each other for a bit, unblinking. Gary wondered if he ought to make some kind of sweeping romantic gesture at this point. He wasn't very good at such things, but then again Jamie already knew that.

"It's getting late," is what he said instead.

"Early, you mean." Jamie scoffed. "You can stay here if you'd like."

"Yeah? I can kip on the sofa."

"No, I mean. My room's pretty big."

Jamie's face had gone all red again and Gary decided that he quite liked it like this.

"Was that why you kissed Hendo? To get a rise out of me?"

"Maybe," Jamie said defensively. "Fun as it was you were being terribly slow, y'know. And I know you're an idiot but it shouldn't have been _that_ hard to spot, should it?"

"You asked me if I wanted one and I didn't reply."

"Yeah."

"Well, all right. I'd like one."  

He wished there was some other noise in the house but there wasn't, just Jamie's breath heavy as he leaned in like he'd done the previous day, all continental European.

Gary turned his head and met him square on the lips. There weren't sparks, or years of longing fulfilled - he'd only just realised, after all - but it was a good kiss, a nice kind of solid, wonderful kiss, the sort that buzzed all the way up to his brain and sat there warm and cosy.

"Do they really have SWIPE LEFT jumpers?" he wondered aloud when they broke apart.

Jamie snorted and flicked his thumb over Gary's cheek, definitely not a cuff this time.

"Shut up, Neville, or I'll actually get you one for Christmas."

And then Jamie was kissing him again, pressing him back into the sofa, and Gary had the faintest of ideas that he probably wouldn't get to see what Jamie's room looked like after all.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- FIRST OF ALL THE MOST IMPORTANT, EVIDENCE:  
> \--- [swipe right and the tinder joke](http://a-ship-is-safe-in-harbor.tumblr.com/post/181300452563/me-theres-no-way-carraville-can-outgay)  
> \--- [le kees](https://twitter.com/samsgyan/status/1076757818097623042)  
> \--- [cuddle jumper (and naughty right hand)](http://a-ship-is-safe-in-harbor.tumblr.com/post/168823982198/have-yourself-a-carraville-little-christmas)  
> \--- [Christmas crackers](http://a-ship-is-safe-in-harbor.tumblr.com/post/180839918461/dumb-marrieds)  
> \- Scholesy is from Oldham  
> \- Kelly Cates hosts MNF  
> \- Gary did a very good analysis of Stoke City corners once that I still [censored] to  
> \- [Jamie really did buy the cuddle jumper](https://66.media.tumblr.com/017ebad405b29c4839410dede6b06fa8/tumblr_inline_p454aeC7XV1r6eykw_1280.png) what a fookin joke!! 
> 
> Someone made a [playlist of festive Billy Joel songs](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-HzNWxgD9K4ivI8g3aG0TF9zyvIVbQPV) so idc, jingle bell rock absolutely counts
> 
> thanks for NOTHING cawwaviwwe i don't know why we persist writing when everything they do just out-does everything we do


End file.
